Conversations with the son they stole:
A window on the world of a father being torn from his little boy
by the secret family courts

Sunday, 17 July 2011

Any Happy Returns?

2008

You were born (after much pushing, pulling, brute force and ignorance and use of cutting gear) at 0226; your first hour in this world was spent with a very proud Daddy.

2009

After a health scare and a stay in hospital in Inverness, you got out just in time to celebrate. Friends of Daddy's treated you to a ride with the crew on the (otherwise fully booked!) steam train from Fort William to Mallaig, and you had your first visit to the cab of a steam engine - 'Black 5' 45231 - at Fort William. We played on the beach at Arisaig and blew out the candle in our tent beside the railway line.

2010

Another year, another milestone - but changed circumstances. Your cab ride on 4953 'Pitchford Hall' at Leicester North was another birthday 'first' thanks to Uncle John the driver, and was the first time you had seen me in six weeks, during which time I had been first accused of being mentally incapable of looking after you, and then hospitalised for emergency surgery. Mummy refused to comply with the court order for contact, and we were fearful that you might not spend your birthday with me after all.

We took you to the railway, laid the tables, put up balloons, and Grandma, Big Grandad and the rest of your family from the Midlands came over to join you for a birthday party with a difference! You spoke to Mummy on the 'phone that day, and had a separate celebration with her and your maternal family.

2011

None of the people in the picture above have seen you since December 2010.

We don't know when, or if, the next time will come.

Happy third birthday, mate. I have sent a card, one of the several presents I have for you, and others from your paternal and church families have done the same. We have no idea whether they will reach you or whether you have any idea where we all have gone, but we have kept plenty of proof - and by the medium of this written form, I hope you will come to understand one day that you were never, ever forgotten - on this special day, or indeed any other.

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About Me

One freezing cold day in January 2010, a man came to my office with an envelope from a county court. On the spot, its' contents made me instantly homeless, and I lost pretty much all I had.

I'd been the victim of abuse at my ex-wife's hand - and was later granted a divorce on the basis of this. Amongst other things, video footage showed my wife holding our son in one hand and thumping me with the other. 'Hardly Baby P' said the judge.

I thought I was through the worst - but eventually the family courts and the various accomplices tore my life to shreds.

Hundreds of miles from my son, my suffering continued, at the hands of Secret Courts, CAFCASS, solicitors, and, commissioning them all, paid for by you, the tax-payer, my abuser herself. All contact with my little boy, born on in July 2008, was unilaterally severed by his mother and grandfather for 666 days.

There’s much I want to say to my son, but he isn't ready yet to understand. For now, I invite you to listen, as I send ‘Love from Daddy'.